A Dinotso Good Day
by tutncleo
Summary: Pure fluff. Inspired by an article in TV Guide.


_A/N: This story is intended to be pure fluff. It is not a reflection of any person or character. It was merely inspired by an interview in TV Guide._

It was 3:00 in the afternoon and Michael Weatherly sat in the nearly deserted studio canteen, his back to the door. He was wearing an old ratty grey sweatshirt, baggy faded jeans, aviator style sun glasses, and a NY Jets ball cap hid his trademark hair. It had been a long day. He had spent the morning in wardrobe, being fit in the clothes that would make up Tony's 'closet' for the season. At noon he had met with his agent to discuss a few press opportunities. And now, he finally had some time for himself. At the moment he was hunched over a stack of scripts piled on the table, slowly reading through the season's first twenty episodes. His laptop and triple chocolate cake sat forgotten beside him. His right leg bounced up and down as he read, keeping time to the scanning of his eyes.

This was pretty good stuff he told himself. He hadn't been thrilled about the fact that DiNozzo wasn't back in Washington by the end of the first episode, but things had started to look up. He loved _Heartland_; he thought it played up the special relationship between Gibbs and DiNozzo. Did it make DiNozzo look too needy he wondered for a second, and then dismissed the idea. No, it just highlighted Tony's deep respect for Gibbs. He would be sure to see what his faithful fic writers could do with that episode.

He had just finished reading _Cloak_ and _Dagger _and was struggling with conflicted reactions. On the one hand, he loved that Tony got a rifle butt to the mouth. It made him look tough. He was a little bothered that the script writers had Ziva fare better in the encounter. He thought Tony should have been allowed to subdue the guards and let them get away, but the betrayal by Gibbs was good stuff. And of course he loved that moment in the elevator, when you didn't know what was going to happen between Tony and Ziva. That was going to get big attention! He wasn't keen on the way the stories revolved around Agent Lee. She was little more than a Probie after all, but all's well that dies in the end, after all.

He had just started in on _Road Kill _when a couple of people sat down at a table behind him. It was two women and they were talking rather loudly. He couldn't really be blamed for eavesdropping he told himself.

"Did you see they were going to have a fan fiction convention in town next month?" one asked the other.

"Oh joy. The town's going to be overrun with would-be romance novelists. I can hardly wait!" was the sarcastic reply.

"You know, I read somewhere that a lot of authors started out by writing fan fiction. I know for a fact that Jim Butcher, that guy who writes those Dresden File books, used to post stories online regularly. He's done okay for himself, even if the series didn't take off."

"Yeah, the books are great, but it's hard to make magic work in serial television. Didn't like the way they changed some of the characters either. Bet that was a problem for the books' fans."

"Hey, do you know what I heard?"

"No, spill."

"I heard that John, that geeky writer over at NCIS, writes fan fiction all the time. Every time one of his story ideas gets shot down he writes it up for ."

Michael sat back in his chair a bit. He hadn't known that! John was one of his favorite writers. He specialized in DiNozzo storylines. _SWAK_ had been his idea. He wondered what his penname was and how he could find out without giving away the fact that he was an avid fanfic reader. He would have to think about that. He was toying with the notion of getting a vanilla shake to wash down the cake with, when the conversation caught his attention again.

"No, he can't be that guy. I know he doesn't write TIVA. I heard that's passé anyway. I think he specializes in some weird pairing. I think I heard it was Tony and Fornell. Can you imagine? Eeew!"

They were getting up to leave he could tell, as their voices began to fade. Tony and Fornell? That was just wrong! TIVA was passé? He hadn't realized that. Well, that wouldn't last after the fans saw _Cloak_. Not that he read much TIVA. The writers spent way too much time talking about how pretty Ziva was. He preferred TIBBS. Now those people had a fine appreciation for Tony's good looks. They went on at great length about his eyes and hair. That reminded him, he wondered if those new green contacts he had ordered were in yet? For a brief moment he wondered if there was something more useful he should be doing, but couldn't think of anything. He toyed with the idea of going for a run, but discarded it quickly. He could always do that tomorrow. He reached for his fork, and absentmindedly ate some cake as he went back to reading the scripts.

He was up to _Caged_ when he next heard people sitting down to eat, glad for the distraction as he was not pleased with this episode. Sean was going to be insufferable after they shot that episode. He wolfed down the last of the cake and leaned back to listen to the new arrivals. It was a man and a woman, and they were laughing about something.

"Can you believe she spent the summer pulling pictures out of fashion magazines to bring in and show me?" the woman was asking. "You'd think I'd never opened a _Vogue_ or _W. _I'd be more impressed with her dedication to her character if she didn't try to buy the entire wardrobe at a huge discount at the end of each season."

"Well just be glad you've get to go to all the fashion shows on the studio's dime. It doesn't hurt that you have nothing but beautiful people to dress," said the man rather wistfully.

"Oh, you get to have some fun with your designs. Dressing the Abby character has to be a gas. Did you check out the Google link to Goth Loli fashions I emailed you?"

"Yes, some of those outfits are amazing. I'm thinking about expanding Abby's color palette this season. I'm going to use more pink and purple accents."

"That'll be fun. How did your fittings go today?"

"Oh my god! Have I got a story for you!"

"Well, I'm waiting."

"Michael came in this morning for a fitting. I hadn't seen him all hiatus. Heard he was filming some movie over in Europe. All I can say is, I think he spent the summer doing nothing but eating!"

"Oh come on, I'll bet he's still yummy."

Michael decided he liked that woman.

"Well, I used my entire budget for him special ordering a slew of new suits from Zegna, D&G and Armani. I love those new slim line retro styles and thought he'd look great in them. So anyway, he comes in and has probably put on twenty five pounds. All the suits were too tight, and of course, they're special order so I can't exactly return them."

"God, what a nightmare! What did you do?"

"Well, what could I do? I didn't want him to think too hard about the fit. So get this – I tell him I spent the whole summer thinking about his character. I said I loved the comic, eternal boyishness of the character and had been thinking about how to reflect that in the costumes. Then I said that I purposely ordered all of his suits one size too small so that the audience would know that DiNozzo was playing to the _Mad Men_ craze, but didn't get it quite right. Then I looked him in the eye and asked if he thought that was too esoteric."

"That's frigging brilliant! What did he say?"

"He told me not to sell his fans short; that'd they get it. And then he told me he loved the idea and had been thinking along similar lines himself. So then we finished the fitting, the best of buds," he said, choking a little on his laughter.

"That's wonderful. I'll have to remember that. Well, I've got to run. I'm fitting Felicity in fifteen minutes."

"Yeah, I'd best run also. There's a sale over at Brooks Bros. and I need to get a few more bow ties for David."

Michael sat, stunned, waiting for them to leave. Then he gathered up the scripts and laptop into a stack, pushed the empty plate back with a glare of distaste, and stood up. He had suddenly remembered where he needed to be. Grabbing up the pile, he headed for the gym.


End file.
